Dallas Drake was a trusted and familiar face in his community after dedicating his career to protecting his neighbors. He was the first openly gay firefighter in Minnesota. But when he tried to retrieve his car from the impound lot after the death of his long-time partner Joe Shulka, the clerk at the suburban Twin Cities impound lot said, “the police department told me not to release it to you because you’re not the next of kin.”
Dallas and Joe began their partnership in 1991 after meeting at a local event. Through the years they bought a house, started a non-profit organization and enjoyed the thrill of chasing a Minnesota summer storm. They understood that Minnesota laws did not recognize their same-sex relationship, so they made sure to list each other as the power of attorney and executor in their wills.
Joe took his own life in September 2008. He could no longer take the daily insults hurled at him about his sexuality and the discrimination he faced as a gay man. In the early 1990s he was nearly beaten to death by a group of men who suspected he was gay. These pressures, along with recent financial trouble, were too much for Joe to bear. He ended his life in a local hotel room.
Dallas waited more than a day-and-a-half for any word about Joe’s whereabouts. Finally, Joe’s sister called to say Joe was gone. The medical examiner refused to call Dallas directly even though instructions for who should be notified were in Joe’s wallet. When Dallas tried to withdraw money from Joe’s bank account, he was denied access. Six weeks after Joe’s death, armed with a death certificate and the help of a judge’s order, Dallas finally accessed his account to pay his bills. Dallas had no recourse with financial institutions, insurance companies and other companies even though both Dallas and Joe were both listed on the accounts.
“The most difficult part is that I lost half of me the day Joe died,” Dallas said. “But I also lost my income, my companionship and understanding. I can’t do this without my partner.”
“The fact is, if our relationship was legally recognized I would not have had to wait so long. No one would have questioned my access to my bank account, my car or Joe’s social security or paycheck,” he said.
Dallas and Joe spent their lives working to solve unnecessary death through their work at the Center for Homicide Research. Ironically, the journey of Dallas and Joe was interrupted by death. They participated fully in the collective human story, but their relationship wasn’t recognized in life or in death.
